#heidlebeere

[forgivenunforgottens]

Loki/Erik

[forgivenunforgottens]

♡ (i can request two right?)

♡: Accidentally falling asleep together

It has been so long by this point since Erik has had company in the garden that he still jumps just the slightest whenever Loki asks a question from somewhere behind him. But all it draws out is smiles and very patiently considered answers, making each word, each minute of the appreciated company, count. Eventually, Erik deems the patches of dormant roses to be sufficiently deadheaded, which really is such a horrible way of putting it, to set aside his shears and allow the other sets mimicking his tending mid-air to fall gently aside. Most of the garden is winding down for the cold season, the succulents standing as proudly as ever, however. There is some aroma left. Enough for the pair of them to bask in under the shade of the largest tree, drinking far different things, at far different temperatures. There is no gauzy sunset yet to murmur over, and no looming world ending disaster for them to idly make speculation out of, there is merely the comfort of company long over due and the simple joy of having a shoulder to rest his head on as Erik goes on about how very lovely some small rural place is this time of the year.He doesn’t even know if Loki listens properly when he mutters off into a warm and quiet rambling, but he does know that when Loki begins to unwind his own winding stories of where he has been, where he has gone, what he has seen, and has far more to tell, and much more intricate ways of telling them with his silvered tongue, Erik is all ears. So much so that he closes his eyes and lets the steady-flowing river of words that paint stories from Loki’s mind and mouth carry him to these far away places that he is not sure he will have the opportunity to see beyond the dreams that seep into his mind when the flowing words carry him right into sleep.When he wakes, there is no sunlight, the gently flowing winds of the season to come are rushing by and there is a fountain filling the space where his own personal babbling brook has ceased to speak. What there is is a godling with his eyes closed and gentle breathing and a  Mutant with every intention of preserving this moment for however long that delightful thing called life will last. 

[forgivenunforgottens]

"Are you a parking ticket? Because you've got fine written all over you."

[forgivenunforgottens]

.

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"Get over here."

[forgivenunforgottens]

With blankets pulled all the way up to his nose, Loki had infiltrated and taken for himself Erik's bed, contently defying the winter wind as it lashed vainly against the nearby window pane.

There was the shuffling sound.There was the distinct rise of goose-flesh along Erik's arms and the hair at the nape of his neck standing on end and Erik knew his bed would not be his own. Not today.

And he smiled, setting down the latest disarray of colorful post it notes and thumbtacks on their color-scattered setting of a map laid out out on the desk. Better things to attend to. Better things to burn the image of into the back of his eyes. 

For all the fretting he might do over what bedding might look best on said bed, it never looks so utterly like a source of that sweet in his chest than it does with Loki in it.  Threadcounts and comfort and fabrics be damned, they could survive an odd scuffing of shoes as he sank into the space not commandeered by his godling, alight with recognition and relief. 

[forgivenunforgottens]

''Feeling clingy, darling?'' -Heidlebeere

It's a funny choice of words for someone that holds him as closely as Erik holds right back, as though they might grow roots and grow into something together, braving the long coming winters and summers alike with the enthusiasm of new leaves each passing season. Someone who's fingers are treating the material of his shirt as though it were made to be torn away with ease and not the strength straight out of legend. The arms of someone that holds Erik so closely there is not room between them for even the palest shade of shame in being so blatantly secured by every breath that shifts the body against him. Its shameless peace, serenity, familiarity. It's the arms that bid Erik to melt without question and flood him with the purest sense of having nothing for the moment to fear. The nimble spell weaving fingers, the toned  and welcoming arms that have been his to drift into without pause or hesitation for so long now. So if his fingers spread and splay over Loki's back as if they were to leave imprints right in return, Erik has not the slightest hue of sheepishness about it. 

This is where he lays claim. This is where he has no question of his belonging. 

“With you? Who wouldn’t?”

[forgivenunforgottens]

(enthusiastically requests a drabble of any kind yep)

Where they spend the night throughout their travels varies as wildly as whether they spend them together at all. There are the nights miles or eons apart from one another where it feels as though some shift in the other can still be felt. Whether it be the note of danger or joy, the other is sure to roll over where they lay their head with a smile or a grimace. Let it be called spooky action at a distance, call it something as brittle as coincidence, it happens. The other nights range in hues of merely close to tangles irrevocably like the vines scattered through ruins as though they'd declared themselves too plain and demanded some imitation of living through their own pulsing veins. These are nights peacefully devoid of apologies for the things that sprout from these thorned vines. Things like the amount of time that they have been apart, things like how these searching hands need to re-explore the wild terrain of one another until they can find some piece of peace again. Words, words are tricky things. It's the things unsaid that carry them through the stretches of silence.It isn't as though there is not an abundance of things to keep them properly occupied, after all, where the silence doesn't seem as severe in the presence of more pressing matters like mischief and murdering to be done. It is a testament to the power of will that neither caves too far into wonder how the other is while they're apart- Or, at least not to the point of doing something as sappy as checking in on eachother. It comes with risks, this thing between them, molten and molded into something solid and steady so there is no doubt. Never knowing for sure until confirmed what new little scrape there is to find on one another. Most likely Erik, naturally, being reckless as though having his home in the hands of something immortal might have some transfered effect on him. Loki might be more upset, if it weren't for the bruises and scratches coming to him like pitifully painful passport stamps to be counted and tell little stories to each. Little stories to carry them off into an all too well earned rest. Even if it's only a night in Monaco, an afternoon in New York, a wildfire wallowing weekend on some island that has no name and no bothersome soul for miles and miles of sunlight on waves. As much as Erik may damn the disappearing tricks of Loki's, he has to admit, they have their upsides. So long as he's along for the ride. There's entire worlds in front of them, and between them, at times, and while neither wants to be alone forever, they can be. For a night. For a few. Even if the parting only makes the stolen reunions all the more precious.It's simply that they choose not to be. What's more, they choose not to be alone, together.

[forgivenunforgottens]

❝Who do you want me to be?❞

His hands don't once stutter on the delicate hold they've settled into on a creature that is anything but delicate. Contrary to appearances, cntrary to the light-boned weight and frailty of the question. Erik's eyes don't leave him once, not as he is now, above him, pale, pride glazed over whatever thoughts might have swirled together like a deadly draught to make such a question sear through the cool air of the bedroom. Perfect. Above all else, there is one thing that Erik has already, but never tires of finding assurance in-- for however long the world(s) and time might stretch them apart, or how the tension keeps them playing on dangerous nerves, this single thing remains truer than anything they have to say to one another. "Just as you are. Mine."And Yours, of course. 

[forgivenunforgottens]

We Three Kings

[forgivenunforgottens]

♜

♜: Shoulder rubs

As much as Erik does admire the sheer brilliance that is Loki's armor and even more so the brilliance that is Loki in that armor, he does not waste time in seizing an opportunity when he sees it. True, of the two of them, he can admit that it is his godling that has the far more nimble fingers, far more captivating and suited for plucking apart the strings of reality to suit his will- But Erik has the certain touch of brutish care that is required for those truly deep knots that ease under his harder hands. As much as he might like to make more of the moment, there is simply nothing to draw out of it for him other than knowing there might be one less source of soreness in Loki's day. He is aware that it could just as easily possibly be handled by a wave of those same fingers that are delightfully going lax on the god's lap, but this way...Well, frankly this way he has an excuse to touch and turn it into a labor of love. It's a silent task with the occasional contended sigh and it feels enough like approval for Erik to count as success when he eventually deems it done and wanders off with a final ruffle of Loki's hair. 

[forgivenunforgottens]

( . )( . )

It is a sight that Erik knows and has had to himself plenty of times beforehand. It does not stop being entrancing each time that it passes him, however. Even gods indulge in showers, and Mutants can be indulged in their remaining in a towel for longer than really necessary to dry. Erik is, for once, not healing from any tragedy or in the clutches of some despairing mood. He is simply doing just that- Indulging; Taking advantage of having an entire bed to himself and the blankets when the weather starts to take a dive. Loki, of course, looks as nonchalant as ever as he idly wanders about the room, Erik’s eyes never leaving the trails of faintly discolored skin and dip of shadow where his bones shift under the pale skin. 

Erik does not even realize he is smiling until it’s echoed back to him from Loki’s face peering over a shoulder, knowing damn well what effect he has.

These are the moments worth returning home in one piece for.

[forgivenunforgottens]

I'm going to deal with you later.

[forgivenunforgottens]

✿

15

“Damn”

"If being sexy were a crime, you’d be guilty as charged.”

[forgivenunforgottens]

❣

4. Our muses try to keep warm on a cold night. 

// Again, length and no song, but excuse me, can I have a hug for trying to write about COLD weather while in this fucking inferno?! //

At times like these Erik suspects that Loki only retains such a variety of scarves and coats in his wardrobe to A) take up closet space and B) Look absolutely ravishing, because even in the most dreadfully casual outfit he looks nonplussed by the weather reports of schools announcing snow days and warnings for drivers. It irritates Erik to no end, who is still very much a victim to these extreme swings of weather.

Or, at least, it irritates him until his godling should make it his personal mission to find some way to keep the Mutant from turning into a half-frozen ball of anger.

First is the bath together, which melts so much of the tension from Erik that it almost circles back to being annoying, until he remembers Loki’s hands- reassuring and smooth, and he knows, in the way that these exact same kind of intimate moments let secrets spill with ease, that he can’t be using his magic, but the touch is still spellbinding.

The problem here being that once someone steps out of a bath, the cold only seems more determined to bite and nip at anything still even remotely moist.

The problem here once again dissipating under the watchful eye of Loki as he insists on wrapping Erik in the latest bedding’s blanket, leaving him on the sofa with a roaring and purring fireplace for company.

When he hears things from the kitchen, it’s instinct to reach out and feel what the hell is happening. Erik can’t help but be territorial about the custom kitchen, even if it is Loki in it. That’s his zen space. And at the moment he doesn’t know what is happening in it, only that he feels more warmth, steam, fogging surfaces, and furrows his brow in curiosity. Being who he is, his godling returns as if his ears are burning with the concentration Erik keeps around him.

He’s returned with two mugs, both steaming and smelling like… Chocolate. It makes his stomach turn, but with his godling commandeering space under the same blanket, tasting and smelling like the chocolate and marshmallows… It’s hard to argue. It’s hard to maintain the aversion to the stuff that has held up for decades simply because the unpleasant attachment to it is fading with every moment of painfully tender attention Loki gives him.

By the end of the day, with the bleak and cold sunset outside the window, Erik finds it hard to argue anything at all. He simply indulges, not caring if Loki’s wearing something more suited for an unholy Summer. All he cares about is the warmth pooling within himself from being with him.